


The road not taken looks real good now

by iileftherbehind



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eiffel Tower, F/M, First Kiss, Paris (City), Strangers to Lovers, inspired by a tweet, kinda ?, not a positive Abby fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:35:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28533777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iileftherbehind/pseuds/iileftherbehind
Summary: Inspired by that tweet that someone posted long ago where they told about how during their last holiday in Paris, to let their friends believe they were having a romantic time with someone, they went to the Eiffel Tower and asked a complete stranger to kiss them and take a picture of said kiss, to send it to their friends.Except here, Clarke does it to shut her annoying mother up. It’s only a coincidence that Bellamy Blake immediately captures her attention and, obviously, agrees to the kiss. It’s also a coincidence that they’re both from Australia. It’s surely a coincidence, too, only a very unexpected one, that Clarke likes the kiss a little bit too much.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	The road not taken looks real good now

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: I originally wanted to write this as a multi chap and had thought of an actual story to follow this initial chapter. Unfortunately, though, I never continued writing it. Now, months later and very busy with university, I know I probably never will, so I decided to simply post it and make it a one shot.  
> (I don’t know if i’ll actually come back to this eventually, but if I will, I’ll change it into a multi chapters and actually post it.)

The first time they meet, it's in Paris. The first time, the first meeting ever, the one they'd remember forever, is in the city of love.

"Are you sure about that?" Harper asked, and Clarke, on the other end of the phone, sighed quietly.

"Yes, I'm sure about that. There's no problem, you couldn't have known that." Clarke replied. "I'm just gonna enjoy Paris for two days until you'll get here and we'll enjoy it together."

Harper paused, hesitation in her voice. "If you want, I can just take the next one, I'll ask Jasper if he can—"

"Harper," Clarke reassured her. "It's totally okay. Stay safe, I'll text you later. Yeah?"

Harper let out a heavy sigh Clarke didn't miss. "Alright. Okay, yeah... but text me. Every two hours."

"Now you just sound like my mom."

"It's Paris. And you're there all alone."

"Last time I checked, I was an adult woman, Harp. I think I'll manage to survive."

"Every two hours." the friend mumbled, and Clarke couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Bye, Harper."

Paris was a silent city.

Or at least for Clarke.

One could say Paris wasn't silent at all - with the murmurs of the people all around, the cars' wheels speeding on the streets, the tourists' talks and amazed wow's and the underground railway's recorded voice - but for Clarke, it was.

It was town where she finally had the time and the occasion to silent her damn thoughts and enjoy the beauty of a whole new country far from her responsibilities and her life.

Organizing this trip with her friend Harper was one of the best thing she's ever thought of, and she was glad she would spend the next ten days far from her every day too-often-too-heavy life.

As soon as Clarke put her luggages in her hotel's room, she felt relieved.

She stepped into the shower and let the water wash the flight and long bus road trip off her, taking with them the stress and the tiredness of the day. She was determined to enjoy those days, no matter what her mom ordered her to do once in Paris.

She got off the railways and shoved her hand inside her pocket, took her map out of her right one and tried to decipher it. Once she'd figured out where she was, she walked up the stairs and found herself in front of the Louvre museum.

A treasure - for an artist like her.

Going around in the Louvre, sweeping her eyes over thousands of art's history, was something she's always dreamt of, and being actually there evoked good memories for her.

She remembered of the times her dad used to tell her about how so many great artists had lived in the past but never really died as their art made them immortal.

She liked the idea of being able to use her own art herself, but to make people feel things rather then making herself immortal or eternal.

She didn't care about immortality, however, she did care about being able to evoke a feeling in someone's heart. A sensation. Bad, good, whatever it was, just using her art to reach people's heart.

Clarke's day went by pretty smooth. She was alone, and Harper would've just come in two days, so she was intending to enjoy the most out of her travel. During lunch time, she decided to stop by a cafeteria and drink a hot chocolate - Paris in January was cold - and only in the late evening, to go visit the Eiffel Tower - seen by the night, with the sparkling lights that covered it and the city - a visit she'd dreamt her whole life.

In the cafeteria, she chose a spot next to a big window, where she could have a clear view of the road and the sidewalk.

Clarke had always seen Paris only from the covers of her mother's magazines, from videos and pictures of her mom's shootings, but she'd never been there. So when she got off the Plane and touched Paris' ground with her own feet, she felt a sensation in her stomach that almost resembled to happiness, though she believed she'd never really experienced what that felt like. As the daughter of a powerful and well known woman like Abby was, Clarke was used to traveling. She was used to planes, jet lags, changing school every two months, moving and to the general chaotic life.

Her mom, Abby Griffin, a powerful and worldwide famous owner of one of the most known and popular clothing brands in Australia, had always brought Clarke with her in her work travels. So Clarke had always travelled and moved from country to country, from city to city, from a school to another and had never had a sedentary and normal teenage life.

All the friendships she once had, were gone, either because she traveled too often to actually maintain a friend, because her mother hadn't approved them, or simply because every friend she'd ever made wasn't real, but was just using her to get to her mom and somehow obtain favors like an interview to become a model or something like that.

That was why the only friends she now had, were Harper and Jasper.

It was obvious - she'd always lived under the control of her mother somehow.

"Clarke, sweetheart, you're strong and smart, and you can do great things her life. You can be whoever and whatever you want," Abby used to tell her when she was little. "don't ever underestimate yourself." and Clarke was confident these were the only right and wise words she's ever heard coming out of her mother's mouth.

But hypocritical words. She knew her mother was an hypocrite, because now Clarke worked for her, even though that was the furthest thing from what she actually wanted from her life.

Without Clarke's dad around, after her parents split, Abby had always somehow manipulated her daughter, and made her dependent to her.

That's why, now that Clarke had finally had the opportunity to travel alone - not with her mom, not with some of her mother's models or coworkers or assistants or photographers, and not for something that involved her mother's job like a gala, an event or even just a runaway show - she was absolutely excited. It felt like a new thing, like a fresh start for herself. Like a way to finally be independent with her dream and taste what living the life she'd always wanted, and not the one her mother wanted her to, felt like.

" _Que voulez-vous commander, mademoiselle_?" the waitress asked, making Clarke snap out of her thoughts.

"Oh," Clarke smiled awkwardly and shook her head. "I'm- I don't speak french. Sorry. Do you- speak English?"

"Oh, sure," she smiledat Clarke. "Welcome in Paris! What can I bring you?" the waitress asked in a unmistakable french accent.

Clarke smiled at the polite question and looked down at the menu. She'd thought about her journey for so long she didn't even decided her meal. "I'll take number ten." she improvised, putting the menu down. "Thank you."

"Great. Would you like something to eat with it?"

"No, thank you."

"Alright." the waitress took the menu and turned on her heels.

Clarke drank her tea while observing the frenetic yet apparently calm Paris' life through the large window. People coming out of the shops with large bags, kids running around the sidewalk, a couple making out not too far from the wall and a man, probably on his fourties, walking up and down the sidewalk with a phone against his ear and a hand on his hip.

She wondered if everyone was right or if what she heard was just a myth, something they say just because: that Paris was the city of love. It sure was a romantic concept, and Clarke had been there for only a few hours but she understood why pretty much everyone said it.

When she heard her phone buzzing, she so hoped she'd see Harper's name on her screen, so her face couldn't hide the disappointment when she instead saw her mother's.

**iMessage**

**one missed message from Mom**

_Mom_

_14:20_

Hello, Clarke. How's your day going? Are you and Harper already together?

Clarke rolled her eyes and picked up her phone against her will, then texted her mom back only for the sake or not calling her later with a hundred questions and one of them being why she hadn't answered before.

_14:28_

No, we're not. she was taking the plane from her mom's town, remember? While I took it from Melbourne, so we were in two different planes and we agreed on the times to leave around the same hour and to meet each other here, in Paris, but apparently her flight is delayed for the weather... next flight is in two days

_Mom_

_14.29_

Does this mean you're staying alone for two days?

_14:33_

Yep

_Mom_

_14:34_

Well, take care dear. Have you seen the Monna Lisa yet?

_14:39_

Yeah, I've seen it. beautiful!

_Mom_

_14:41_

What are you doing today?

Clarke sighed.

Too many questions, even when she was on the other side of the world.

_14:44_

I think I'll just chill around and go see the Eiffel tower in the evening, when it's darker outside

_Mom_

_14:46_

Sounds exciting! Are you going to work on the shooting for next month? Time is tickling!

The shooting.

For what concerned Clarke, she would have never, not even in a million years, thought that working for her mother, in her company, was the dream of her life. But she needed time and — over all — a good amount of luck to pursuit her dream of being an artist, and so in the meanwhile, she'd agreed on working for Abby.

All fun and stuff, until she understood she wasn't even on her own. Abby had never given her important jobs and duties, but just some sort of side jobs she didn't want to do herself and that she thought could be easy for Clarke to finish them. And every time Clarke confronted very about it, Abby let it slide it off. Telling her it wasn't that she didn't trust her, but just that that was the special treatment the daughter of the boss deserved.

Clarke wasn't stupid.

She knew that wasn't the truth.

And so, when she had convinced Abby to give her her very first real responsibility without her help of anyone, in a whole another country, she was thrilled.

  
_Mom_

_14:46_

You know that Paris is the city of love? Eyes open, you might find your future husband or wife right under the Eiffel Tower ;)

Disgusting.

Will a roll of her eyes, Clarke forced herself to text back again.

_14:47_

I think i dont really care, mom. I came here to visit the city with Harper

_Mom_

_14:49_

But Harper's not gonna be there for the next few days I recall? You could use that time to meet someone. Just an idea, honey. Enjoy your staying!

_14:50_

Did i tell you, Luisa, my secretary's daughter, is pregnant?

Not again.

_14:53_

Mom, don't start.

I'm not even 24 yet

_Mom_

14:55

I know hun, i was just staying. Eyes open :)

Clarke couldn't help but pull a face.

Her mom, ever since she turned eighteen at least, had always pressured her into it. Always pressured her into finding a good partner and get married as soon as possible.

Clarke had dated Lexa for a while, and Abby was so happy she did that she asked her when things would've taken a more serious turn. But Clarke was just nineteen and after the two girls broke up, her mom had just taken a month of break before going back to her you should find someone bullshit.

Abby said that the reason why her marriage ended up being a catastrophe, was because she'd married Jake too old, so she'd always pressured Clarke into finding someone and marrying them young. Clarke had another reason in her mind, though, and that one was that her father was and had always been too good for her mother, but that was obviously something she'd always kept for herself.

Still, she couldn't stand her mother's pressures.

She didn't care about finding the perfect partner, she was just twenty-two and still in her best years. She wanted to study, do art and live her own life, not the one her mother so hard wanted for herself and so now projected on her only daughter.

Clarke was so tempted to answer her with honesty, to just tell her she didn't care about that and didn't care if Abby did care but she knew how her mother would react. And she was so not letting Abby ruin this trip for her.

Full of resentment for her mother, she picked up her phone and texted without her brain first realizing it.

_14:58_

Actually, you know what, mom? Yeah

I met someone

He looks handsome and polite as well

He? Handsome?

Fuck.

Why didn't she at least think before typing out whatever came to her mind?

Her mom was gonna ask for more details.

For pictures.

And with thousands of questions.

She decided she could not stand her unbearable questions right now, so what she wisely thought of was to turn her phone off in panic.

And enjoy Paris.

At least until she could.

#

Finding the right stopping for the Eiffel Tower was hard, especially because every person she'd asked to did not speak nor understand English and - with very much unease from her mother's part - her French was really bad.

When she finally got there, though, she smiled because the view was absolutely worth it.

It was even more beautiful than the one she'd imagined.

She walked down the street, full of street's artists and amazing paintings, and she couldn't help but smile at the spontaneity of that. Her eyes watched the art amazed.

She dreamt of a life like that one.

As she took her phone out of her pocket to take a picture of the many lights that cover the magnificent tower in front of her, she remembered she'd kept her phone turned off the whole day.

She knew damn well that meant tons of messages and calls and, possibly, her mother coming out of somewhere out of the blue with two cops for a missing person case.

**20 messages from Harper**

**63 messages from Mom**

**14 missed calls from Mom**

"Jesus Christ", she mumbled to herself. She expected this, especially after Harper had recommended to call her every two hours.

She decided to only open her mom's ones and to quickly think of a good answer and excuse of why she'd been totally absent the whole day, but it was only when she read the messages that she remembered the real reason why she had decided to not let anyone reach her.

_Mom_

_15:01_

You have???

Are you serious, Clarke?

How come I've had to ask you to know that

I want to know more!

_Mom_

_15:14_

Where are you now?

_Mom_

_15:30_

Please, don't ignore my questions.

_Mom_

_17:03_

Clarke Griffin, you're worrying me. I told Harper to text you. Text me asap

_Mom_

_18:34_

Be careful.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

Clarke knew she just got herself into an enormous big mess. There's no way her mother hadn't already gossiped about her so called handsome French date, when it in fact did not exist and never had.

She made the huge mistake of reading Harper's messages, too.

_Harper_

_15:40_

Hello??? I leave you for two days alone and you meet someone, hook up with him and go around Paris with him? You owe me answers..

Hook up?

Things were even worse than she thought.

Clarke did not know where all those details came from since she only recalled to have said some invented panicked crappy lie to her mom, but she knew already how Abby liked to exaggerate whatever information she

got from Clarke, especially if it went in her favour. She could swear she expected her mother to have made a perfect drawing in her mind of this French man.

A rich, powerful, full-of-himself man who's biggest passions were money, his yatch and models. Basically, everything Clarke disrespected, but everything Abby wanted for her. Maybe, because she never had it for herself.

On the other side, Clarke knew how annoyingly insistent her mother could get so she quickly figured that what she needed to give her was something that would shut her up for at least the next hours, the time she'd use to come up for a believable story of why that was just a one night adventure.

Well, a one night adventure and a _kiss_ under the Eiffel Tower.

As Clarke looked around, she tried to examinate the people that surrounded her, hoping to be lucky enough.

She spotted a family not far from her, a man holding his daughter while, the one that Clarke figured could be the mother, was buying her some cotton candy. A smiles grew on her lips, sweet memories of her father bringing her cotton candy every day after work.

The memories filled her mind with bitterness and the eyes with tears. She shook her head and quickly tried to come back to herself, remembering what she was looking for, or, better, who.

It was not too crowded, not too full of people: an old lady was taking some pictures while a girl that looked like Clarke's ave was playing with her Golden Retriever. She thought she might be French and not a tourist, because of the ease she looked like she was walking with. She didn't have the amazed look on her face, she barely looked at the monument in front of them, suggesting Clarke she'd probably walked down this path many times already.

Clarke could see it, the woman walking by was clearly a very beautiful looking lady, and, for a second, she considered asking it to her. If she had to kiss a stranger, let them at least be attractive to her.

But then, her mind reminded her her text said a man. He. She could not change her story like this, so she let out a sigh and told her mind to look for men instead.

Clarke was about to give up, when her gaze landed on him. There, not far from where she was standing, waiting in the queue that brought to the tower, stood a beautiful stranger.

When her eyes laid on him she almost looked away before bringing her gaze back. He was pretty much as fully clothed as she was, considering the cold weather, so she focused on his face instead. The first thing she noticed were his dark skin tone and his face covered with freckles. His dark eyes were clear even in the distance. Curly dark hair, a pretty nose, and under his full lips a small dimple right on his chin.

As Clarke walked closer she noticed the couple — a good looking man and a very beautiful young woman — whom the man was taking a picture of, smiling at him and walking to him again right after the picture was taken.

They smiled and took the camera in their hands, while the stranger turned to watch the Tower. She figured that if that might have been the perfect moment — was there even a perfect moment to ask a stranger for a kiss? — she wouldn't miss it. She felt already lucky enough to have found him.

Clarke parted her lips right before approaching him, but the stranger opened his mouth first.

"I was asking myself if you would have kept standing there staring at me like a creep or you'd have come asking me whatever you wanted to ask." he said, turning to glance at her, but his face didn't show any of the attitude his words or tone were hinting at, instead, he was smiling. "Do I have something in my face and I don't know it?"

His voice was deep and raspy.

"Oh," she let out an awkward laughter. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to look so creepy. Should have thought about that."

"Fuck," he laughed, "thanks God you speak English. And thank God you were actually staring at me. For a moment, I thought you would've answered to me mumbling something in French or that you were just a tourist looking at the Tower behind me."

Clarke couldn't help but laugh.

Handsome and Funny.

"Well, for what it's worth," she began, "I'm thankful you're a tourist, too. My French is terrible and I would've had a pretty hard time trying to explain a French man why I was staring at him like a creep." she said, echoing his words with a playful tone.

He smirked. "Sorry, didn't mean to call you a creep before even getting to know your name."

"Oh but I did look like one, I'm sure. So that's okay."

The stranger nodded, the smirks still on his beautiful lips. "You're here alone?"

"Yes, for two more days. My friend could not take her flight."

He opened his mouth to answer, when the young woman Clarke had seen before showed up and took the stranger's hand. She looked beautiful. Long black hair falling behind her shoulders and two beautiful piercing eyes. Her features, next to the stranger's one, were indeed some of the most beautiful Clarke had ever seen.

"Bell, are you coming?" the woman asked.

Clarke so hoped she was just a friend to him, because she so hoped she had not been staring at someone's hot boyfriend and that she was not about to ask that someone's hot boyfriend to kiss her.

"Oh, hey. Yeah, give me a second."

The woman smiled and nodded at him, then waved at Clarke with a smile on her lips. "You don't know the mess you just put yourself in, girl. Be quick to give my brother your number so he can be my photographer again." she told Clarke, right before turning her back to her and walking back to the other man that was apparently with them.

My brother.

Yes, she got luck.

"Sorry, I should go. My sister wants a photoshoot of pictures in all the same poses, just to end up not posting any of them and complaining they're all ugly." he smirked.

Clarke laughed. "Oh, okay. Hey, first— I wanted to ask you something."

The stranger raised his left eyebrow, taking his time to scrutinize Clarke's face.

"Sure, what was it?"

Clarke smiled politely to try and hide how nervous she was. That was for sure the most embarrassing thing she'd ever done, no wonder her hands were shaking inside her pockets. 

"Can I kiss you?" she blurted out without giving her brain time to chicken out.

His expression didn't change, or at least Clarke didn't see any changes from the way his smirk still stayed there, on his lips. But after a few seconds, he folded his arms, glancing down at her.

"You wanna kiss me?" he asked.

"Yeah." Clarke laughed. "I'm gonna explain. Uhm... You- you just need to know the relationship with my mother isn't the best in the world and, long story short, I may have told her I'm having a super romantic time here in Paris with a stranger I just met today, and she..." she cleared her throat, "she may have been asking me questions about it. And I may need a proof of it to just- shut her up because I want to enjoy my staying here without her annoying questions. So, anyway. Yeah, I... told her I met this handsome man and I think a picture of us kissing in front of the Eiffel Tower will be enough."

At least for now.

But she chose to leave that one sentence out.

The stranger's smirk just grew wider. "Did you just call me handsome?"

Clarke could not help but scoff. That was not the way she expected him to react.

"If I say yes will you accept it?" she asked. "Will that be enough to kiss me?"

He bit his bottom lip, letting his arms fall beside his body. Something about his body language told her that he wasn't embarrassed nor weirded out by the proposal at all.

"You're Australian, aren't you?"

Clarke pulled her head back, slightly amazed by that, considering her accent wasn't always too revealing because of the diction courses her mother forced her to attend when — in high school — she used to pretend she liked theater to please her.

"I am," she nodded slowly, narrowing her eyes at his face. When realization hit her. How hadn't she recognized his accent until now?

The thought of his fascinating way of doing and his undeniable beauty being the reason of it made her cheeks flush.

"Oh my god. You are, too." Clarke smiled. "What were the odds I would've met a fellow Australian in Paris?"

"Well, as much as the ones of a total stranger approaching you under the Eiffel Tower and asking you for a picture where you kiss her." he smirked. "For her mother." he then added.

Clarke felt ashamed. She couldn't blame him.

"You're right. God, that was so weird from my side..."

"No, no," he said, "It's okay. I'm gonn kiss you." he shrugged.

A shiver ran down over her spine.

"You are?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I can ask my sister to take the picture, if you want."

"That- that'd be great. Thank you, really."

"No worries," he began, grinning. "It's not everyday that a beautiful woman asks you for a kiss in Paris. Must be my lucky day."

Clarke felt her cheeks going to flame once again. She hoped he didn't see it.

As the stranger's sister told them where to position themselves for them to be seen right in front of the Tower, with a wonderful and magic landscape worth it's name, she positioned herself at the perfect distance from them, and held Clarke's phone in her hands.

"You guys ready?" the girl asked, smiling wide at them.

The stranger turned toward Clarke. She smiled awkwardly, immediately noticing the height difference between them she hadn't noticed before.

"How do you want to do this?" he asked her.

"Oh, well," she tried to hide the redness in her cheeks caused by the closeness they now shared. "Just- do it yourself, I don't really care about the pose."

"Alright," he answered, wrapping his right arm around her waist. "Is that okay for you?"

Clarke swallowed. "Sure."

Right when she saw him cupping her jawline in his right hand, she figured she needed to do something and not stay there, froze on spot. So she lifted her chin up and got on her tiptoes, wrapping her arm around his waist and pulling him closer.

He was the one who leaned down to her. He closed his eyes and before Clarke could sweep hers to his lips, he collided theirs together.

She closed her eyes right away. Clarke returned the kiss, but didn't feel him moving— he probably figured that was not what she asked for, not an actual kiss, just a picture of a fake one— so he stayed still, his lips on hers.

She did the same, but she couldn't help but feel how soft his lips were and how good they actually felt against hers.

Clarke - she knew it - risked with this, but in that moment, she didn't think about it. She didn't think about the consequences. She just moved her hand on his cheek and deepened the kiss. And she could swear the stranger was about to do the same, when his sister interrupted them.

"Done!" she yelled.

Clarke was the first one to pull away. 

She looked up at him, praying her cheeks weren't as red as she felt them, but his comment betrayed her.

"At least I helped you fight the cold weather." he said, smirking at her.

She felt a lump in her throat.

"Fuck, sorry."

He then took his hands off her, and, for a moment, Clarke felt the loss of them.

She was grateful she was too fully clothed for him to touch her bare skin. Not because she thought she wouldn't like it. But because she thought she would.

The picture turned out good, believable enough.

When she thanked the man's sister who took their picture and then , swept her gaze to the stranger, he was already looking at her.

"Is it okay?"

"Yes," Clarke nodded. "It's great. Thank you for this. Not everyone would've helped me."

"No problem." he waved her off.

Clarke shifted on her feet, biting on her bottom lip to keep herself from asking further questions and make this even more awkward.

"C'mon, Bell, Murphy wants to get in the queue." the woman said.

"Oh, right. Okay," he smiled at his sister and then turned to glance at Clarke once again. Now, the smirk was gone, and a genuine smile had taken its place. "Enjoy your staying."

"Thanks. You too." she mumbled, and then watched him walk back to his friends.

A part of her wished he'd turn around, even just to give her one last smile, or smirk, but he didn't, and so she reminded herself he shouldn't have anyway.

Later that night, as Clarke walked back to her hotel, she realized she hadn't even asked the stranger his name. She got nothing from him, only a 'Bell' overheard by what she figures was his sister, but, while she made he way back, she found herself touching her lips more than a handful of times.

She felt a taste on her lips, in her mouth, a taste she couldn't quite decipher.

She liked it.


End file.
